


comfort in familiarity

by championstunic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Homesickness, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, time skip spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25737067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/championstunic/pseuds/championstunic
Summary: Kourai rolls over onto his back, resting his head on a mountain of hotel pillows and lifting the phone up into the air above him. When he replies, his voice is muffled by fabric and choked with resignation. “Yeah, I am. I’m really, really homesick.”“I’m sorry,” Sachirou says, apologizing for the fact that he can’t wrap Kourai up in his arms and pepper him with kisses until he stops smelling like hotel shampoo and smells like Sachirou’s detergent, instead. “I miss you, too.”Or: Kourai gets homesick during an overseas trip, so he calls Sachirou.
Relationships: Hirugami Sachirou/Hoshiumi Kourai
Comments: 16
Kudos: 127





	comfort in familiarity

**Author's Note:**

> alternative title: kiss me thru the phone
> 
> inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/kurapikasdad/status/1290552661289267201?s=20) lovely thread on twitter. thanks kdad for breaking my brain with those headcanons.
> 
> some notes on context: i think hoshiumi traveling abroad for a training camp was mentioned in a recent light novel, but i don't think it was ever specified _when_ that training camp takes place. here, i assumed it was sometime in the few years after they graduated high school. hirugami is in his third or fourth year of vet school, and hoshiumi has been on the adlers for a couple of years now.

It’s barely past 6AM when his phone rings. Sachirou groans, because he's supposed to have at least three more hours of sleep before his alarm goes off.

He rolls over onto his side, blindly groping around his bedside table until his hand catches on his cellular. He picks it up clumsily and automatically slides a finger across the screen to answer it, not even able to force himself to open his eyes and check the caller ID. He uses all the strength he can muster after sleeping for only five hours just to hold it up to his ear.

His mind is still foggy with sleep. His mouth is dry and his tongue is heavy when he answers. “Hello?” he says groggily, and it sounds far away even to his own ears.

When the person on the other side replies, his eyes shoot open and the sunlight streaming through the slits in his window shades greets him along with Kourai’s voice. “Hi, Sachirou.” It's hesitant and small, with no trace of Kourai’s usual confidence.

“Kourai-kun? Aren’t you overseas? Why are you calling me right now? What time is it for you?” Sachirou rolls over onto his back and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms until he sees stars in the corners of his vision. His head reels, but he discounts that as simple fatigue.

Kourai answers Sachirou’s questions with his own. “Did I wake you?” Sachirou can barely hear him, tinny and quiet through the phone speaker.

“Well, yeah, it’s really early.” Sachirou hears a slight whimper on the other end of the phone, quickly continuing, “But it’s fine, I’m awake now and that's what matters. Why’d you call?”

“I don’t like it here, Sachirou,” Kourai whispers tentatively into the speaker. “I don’t know anyone except for my teammates and everyone else is so intimidating and the food  _ sucks _ and I can’t sleep—”

Sachirou cuts him off before he can start rambling. “Okay, okay. What about your teammates? They might understand how you're feeling. Nii-chan is there, why can’t you talk to him? It’s almost like I’m there with you,” he teases.

Kourai pauses. Sachirou can hear him take a deep breath, and there's muted conversation in the background. A bell rings in the distance, then there's a set of heavy footsteps that aren't Kourai’s, getting gradually louder before eventually fading away. 

“I want to talk to you, though. I want to hear your voice, if that’s okay with you,” Kourai’s replies gently, but it’s enough to make Sachirou’s heart stop. Less than a second later, when it starts beating again, it’s in double time. “Unless you want to go back to sleep,” Kourai adds. “I know you probably have a busy day planned and I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sachirou blurts out around a lump forming in his throat. He lazily throws his free arm over his forehead and stares at the ceiling, the corners of his mouth pulling up into an almost-smile. “I’d like to talk to you, too, Kourai-kun.”

Kourai lets out a long sigh, and Sachirou’s stomach twists. It’s not often that Kourai lets himself be vulnerable around Sachirou like this, let alone willingly seeking him out for comfort or advice; it’s usually the other way around, with Sachirou seeking out Kourai. He thinks Kourai’s always been worried that needing help with something other than volleyball would only make him seem weak, even though Sachirou knows him much too well to ever let that idea cross his mind. Although he’s not unhappy with the reversal of their roles — he’s been missing Kourai since he left for his overseas training camp a few weeks ago, and Sachirou’s happy to hear his voice and help him if he needs it — but he can’t help but be concerned, as well. After all, it’s not easy for something to rattle Kourai like this. Sachirou wishes he could see his face, too, to make sure that he’s really doing okay.

Finally, Kourai speaks again. “Sachirou, is it…” Pause. “Could we video call?” It’s like he’s reading Sachirou’s mind from an ocean away.

“Sure,” Sachirou replies softly. “That’d be nice.”

Immediately after Sachirou says that, before he can even sit up in bed or collect his earphones from where they’re strewn across his nightstand, a video call from Kourai comes in on his phone. Sachirou curses a couple times as he fumbles with the knots in the wires before finally plugging them in and answering the call on the last ring.

“Took you long enough!” Kourai yells in greeting while Sachirou resituates himself in bed, sitting up against the headboard and pulling his knees against his chest so he can rest his hand holding the phone on top of them in order to get a steady view of Kourai. Kourai is staring back at him, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. His hair is still dripping from a shower he probably recently stepped out of, and Sachirou can see the neckline of a familiar cotton t-shirt. He's sure that, just a few days ago, he’d turned his entire closet inside out searching for it.  _ That little thief , _ he thinks fondly. It looks like Kourai is walking somewhere, and Sachirou can see a hallway passing by behind his head, the plain white of the walls intermittently interrupted by numbered doors or cheap, mass-produced paintings. “You look exhausted,” Kourai adds with his trademark bluntness.

Sachirou laughs and runs a hand through his messy hair, fingers catching on a few tangles. “I  _ am _ exhausted. That’s what happens when you wake me up at six in the morning. Also, it’s not exactly like I had any time to brush my hair or get dressed for you.”

Kourai frowns and stops moving, the backdrop around him going still. “Oh, yeah. Sorry again.”

“I told you it’s fine. It’s nice to see you.”

Kourai continues moving again, looking at something off camera before making a turn and opening a door. “It’s nice to see you, too, even if you look terrible.”

Sachirou feigns offence. “How rude of you, Kourai-kun! I always look amazing, even after I’ve just woken up, and you know that. You should be glad you can’t smell my breath, though, because I can't say the same about that."

Kourai wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Sachirou unfurls his legs in front of him and tilts the phone down slightly, holding it with both hands now. “Where are you, anyway?”

Kourai flips the camera around to show an empty hotel room. It’s small, with two messy full-sized beds facing a TV that rests on top of a dresser taking up the entire opposite wall, and it's covered in travel-size toiletry bottles and food wrappers. There’s a compact desk between the dresser and the window, which is on the other side of the beds from where Kourai is standing by the door. The curtains are drawn shut and the only light is coming from a table lamp sitting on the nightstand between the two beds. Kourai turns the camera around to show himself again, replying as he flops onto his bed, stomach first and feet in the air. “Back in my hotel room. I was in the lobby earlier because I didn’t wanna bother my roommate with my call, but he just left.”

Sachirou yawns. “Who’s your roommate?”

“Kageyama. He probably went to the hotel gym or something. You know how intense pros can be.”

Sachirou nods, because he does. His whole life before Kourai came along was a long lesson about how intense pros can be. “Anyway, what did you want to talk about? Tell me about your camp.”

Kourai opens and closes his mouth a few times, obviously turning words over in his head. Finally, he says, “Sachirou, I really miss home.” 

Sachirou isn't prepared for the way the strained tone of Kourai’s voice makes his heart ache. Kourai laughs hollowly and his eyes flit around the room, landing on something beyond his phone and pointedly avoiding even virtual eye contact with Sachirou. He knows how difficult it must be for him to admit something like this. Kourai looks as if someone pulled out a dimmer switch and twisted it to the lowest setting, almost completely snuffing out his light. Sachirou desperately wants to find the knob in order to turn it back up to full power.

Kourai continues, “You probably think I’m being ridiculous, I don’t know. This is my first time on a trip like this and it’s been  _ weeks  _ now but I can’t get adjusted. I still feel so jetlagged. And, I just… I miss my bed? And the nice man who works at the convenience store near my apartment. I miss walking past the park where all the little kids play every day after school and I miss visiting my mom on the weekends. I even miss conditioning in our  _ own _ gym. I  _ hate _ conditioning but I miss that.” Kourai meets Sachirou's eyes through the camera again. “I miss _ you _ . A lot.”

Sachirou sucks in a sharp breath, wishing for nothing more than to be able to reach straight through the phone screen and cup Kourai’s round face in his hands. For Kourai to lean into his touch as he strokes his cheek with his thumb. Instead, Sachirou grips the phone tighter in his right hand and clutches a fistful of his bedsheets in his left. “You’re homesick?” he clarifies.

Kourai rolls over onto his back, resting his head on a mountain of hotel pillows and lifting the phone up into the air above him. When he replies, his voice is muffled by fabric and choked with resignation. “Yeah, I am. I’m really, really homesick.”

“I’m sorry,” Sachirou says, apologizing for the fact that he can’t wrap Kourai up in his arms and pepper him with kisses until he stops smelling like hotel shampoo and smells like Sachirou’s detergent, instead. “I miss you, too.”

Kourai visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening and the lines on his forehead smoothing out where he’d had his eyebrows knitted together. “This is nice, at least,” he says, almost too hushed for Sachirou to hear. “Thanks for picking up. Just seeing your face and hearing your voice… It’s like I still have access to a little piece of home right in my pocket.”

Sachirou’s heart sputters to a stop yet again, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. He pulls his covers up a little higher and runs a shaky hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “It’s too early in the morning for you to say stuff like that, Kourai-kun.”

“It’s pretty late for me!” Kourai grins.

“Whatever.” Sachirou rolls his eyes, then glances over at his window. The shades are shut, but he can tell that the sun’s risen a little higher in the sky now, and thin beams are sneaking through the gaps to hit Sachirou square in the face, soaking his entire bed in radiance and warmth. He squints at the light for a second before turning back to look at his phone. “The camp can’t be all that bad, though, right? I mean, you probably get to play volleyball with some pretty strong players.”

Kourai rolls over onto his side, his back to the hotel window so Sachirou can make out the faint lights of a skyline bleeding through the closed curtains over Kourai's shoulder. The camera is lopsided, and Kourai’s face is mostly obscured by pillows and a fluffy white comforter. His hair, finally dry, nearly blends in. It even looks almost as soft as the blanket. Sachirou, thinking about how badly he wants to comb his fingers through Kourai’s hair, can remember how it feels, downy and smooth against his skin. He swears he can actually feel the pressure of Kourai’s arms wrapped around his waist just like when they sit on the couch and cuddle; a phantom touch that he desperately wishes could be something more concrete.

“I guess you’re right,” Kourai says into his pillow. 

He begins describing the highlights of his past few weeks to Sachirou. At least, everything that he hadn’t already texted Sachirou about as he slept, the time difference between them being too wide for Sachirou to ever reply in a timely manner. He talks about the trainers, former Olympians from all around the world, and how, even though he can hardly understand a word they say, he can tell they really know what they’re talking about. Kourai lists all the foreign players he’s met, and details the rush of adrenaline he gets every time they look down on him for his height because he knows that, the next time they see him play, he’ll be able to prove to them that he should never have been underestimated. He tells Sachirou that, even though it’s hard to be in such a foreign place, he finds some comfort in knowing that his teammates are going through some of the same things as him.

“And then,” he says, sitting up in bed now. Sachirou is brushing his teeth as he listens to him, not paying attention to the video, but, behind his eyelids, he can still vividly see the grin he knows Kourai is wearing and the laughter that's definitely in his eyes. “The woman at the hotel front desk almost slapped Ushiwaka! She thought he said something rude to her, but he was just trying to ask for more towels. I guess he still has a lot of English left to learn.”

“How’s your English coming along, then, Kourai-kun?” Sachirou asks after he spits out his toothpaste and rinses his mouth with water. He picks his phone back up with one hand, toweling off his face with the other.

Kourai pouts. “I’m getting better, okay? Plus, I have plenty of chances to practice here.”

Sachirou smiles wryly at him as he moves over to his closet to begin picking out his clothes for the day. “Of course, I believe you.” He pauses by the window, opening the shades a couple centimeters to peek out of the gaps. He can see the crowd on the street below his apartment growing as more people begin heading to work for the day, and the amount of sunlight in his room steadily increases.

“Good, because it’s true! Oh! And I also met this one middle blocker from Bulgaria who's probably  _ way  _ taller than Gao!”

“Probably better than him, too, right?” Sachirou jokes, opening a drawer and pulling out a t-shirt that Kourai hadn’t stolen from him.

“Anyone’s better than Gao,” Kourai agrees, even though they both know that's not true anymore. He falls back against his pillows with a thud.

“Probably not better than me, though,” Sachirou muses, stroking his chin, teasingly thoughtful.

Kourai hesitates for a second, his lips pursed and the bridge of his nose scrunched up in the cute way they always are when he thinks really hard about something like a strong defensive strategy or what he wants to order to eat from a new restaurant. Finally, he answers, “Sorry, Sachirou, but he probably is. Bulgaria has a  _ lot _ of good players. But you’re definitely better than him at other things!”

Sachirou gasps mockingly, still standing in his closet doorway wearing just his sleeping shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, holding the phone even with his face. “Kourai-kun! I thought I was perfect.”

“Sachirou, whoever told you that lied,” Kourai replies simply. Sachirou can’t help but laugh, opening another drawer to pick out a pair of jeans. Kourai rolls over in bed onto his other side, his back now to the small foyer of the hotel room, with a door to the outside hallway adjacent to the door to the bathroom. He props his phone against the lamp on the bedside table so that his hands are free, then he hugs one of the pillows to his chest as he continues speaking. “Thank you for listening to me talk. I feel a lot better.”

Sachirou sits back down on the edge of his bed, placing his selected clothes next to him, and he smiles down at his phone. “I’m glad to hear that, Kourai-kun.”

“Not just today,” he adds, “but over the past few years, too. Thanks for  _ always _ listening to me. Even when you’re busy, or tired, or stressed. You always listen, and that means a lot to me.”

Sachirou falls back onto his bed, his feet still on the floor and his arms extended in the air above his head, holding his phone. “There’s no one else I’d rather have squawking in my ear when I’m trying to study for my finals.” He says it like he means it, because he does.

Even though Kourai’s face is partially covered, Sachirou can still see him smile from behind his pillow. His grin is wide, but his eyes are tired. Sachirou still doesn’t know what time it is for him, and it must be late. “Your turn,” Kourai demands drowsily, exhaustion replacing all of his usual sternness. “Tell me about how your classes have been.”

He obeys easily. Sachirou describes his recent weeks to Kourai as he continues getting ready for his day. Moving around the kitchen to prepare breakfast, he holds his phone in one hand and turns on the rice cooker then lights the stove with his free hand. He makes sure to glance down at the screen when he gives a detailed description of the dissections he has to do in his anatomy class so that he can ingrain Kourai’s scrunched up, disgusted face into his mind, his eyebrows raised and his tongue sticking out. As Sachirou cracks an egg into a hot skillet, he complains about his lab partner, a stuck-up girl from Aoyama who obviously thinks that he's lazy and doesn’t care about his classes, even though Sachirou knows that he’s getting higher marks than her. While stirring miso paste into broth, he tells stories about his foreign, eccentric biochemistry professor, who wears the same exact outfit for every lecture: a brown tweed jacket, a different shade of brown slacks, mismatched socks, and unpolished brown loafers. The same professor spends the entire class time talking into the blackboard at the front of the room, on which he writes down key words and concepts, and he doesn’t turn around to look at any of the students until the very end of the lecture when he has to answer their questions.

“Some of my friends in that class and I are going to hatch a scheme to try and catch him in a different outfit someday,” Sachirou says as he spoons rice into a bowl. “We just haven’t figured out how we’ll do it, exactly. What do you think about that, Kourai-kun?”

Kourai doesn’t respond, and, after a few seconds of silence, Sachirou hears a loud snort in his ear that makes him jump. He looks down at his phone where he’d placed it on the counter next to the components of his breakfast to see a crooked view of Kourai displayed on the screen, his face pressed into the pillow he's still hugging with his eyes shut tight and mouth open wide. Asleep and snoring. Sachirou laughs quietly to himself, trying not to wake him, because he sounds like a chainsaw. Anyone who didn’t know Kourai would never expect him to be able to produce a noise like that. Sachirou leans against the counter, propping up his elbow and resting his cheek in his palm. He stares down at the screen fondly, knowing his food is probably getting cold. He doesn’t care.

“I guess my stories weren’t that exciting compared to yours, huh? They bored you to sleep,” he whispers into the microphone, not taking his eyes off of the gentle curve of Kourai’s eyelashes against his cheek. The video is slightly pixelated but, with Sachirou’s memories to supplement the image, he can see everything in crystal clear definition. Kourai’s snores are thunderous, just like his personality, but Sachirou marvels at the fact that even someone as turbulent as him can look delicate in his sleep. Careful not to make a lot of noise, he gently presses the buttons on his phone to take a screenshot of Kourai like this. Even if they’re not physically occupying the same space, he never wants to forget this moment. He doesn’t want to let Kourai forget it either, because he’s definitely planning on using the screenshot to tease him as soon as his plane touches down back in Japan. 

Even though Kourai's asleep, Sachirou can still see a bright light radiating from him, brilliant enough to reach across an ocean and illuminate the entire kitchen through a phone screen. Sachirou breathes a sigh of relief, happy to see that the light that had been missing when he first answered Kourai's call has finally returned.

Sachirou looks up at the clock on his wall and sees the time, wincing because he can’t believe he talked to Kourai for almost three hours. Now, he needs to quickly finish getting ready if he wants to be on time for his morning class. He spares one more glance at Kourai’s image, though. A bit of drool has escaped his mouth; Sachirou thinks he looks so effortlessly handsome. 

“Hey, Kourai-kun," Sachirou begins, knowing that Kourai isn't listening. "I’m really glad I could help you feel better, so thanks for giving me that opportunity. I probably won’t tell you this again, but you make me feel better, too. All the time. You always have. I need to go now, but I hope you get plenty of sleep and enjoy the rest of your trip. Let’s talk again later, and you’ll tell me about everything else that happens, okay? I love you.”

Taking in a deep breath, Sachirou ends the call. He’s never said those words out loud before now, but nothing in his life has ever felt so natural and right; not since he decided to apply to vet school. He wants to say them over and over again. Sachirou slowly sets his phone down next to his uneaten breakfast and returns to his room to change his clothes in order to proceed with his day, mentally making plans for the weeks to come. 

Sachirou decides that the next time he sees Kourai — in person, not a grainy video of him over his phone — he’ll wrap his arms around Kourai's waist and immediately press their lips together. He’ll memorize the way it feels, not settling for just the ghost of a touch. When he pulls his face away, he’ll still hold Kourai close so that he doesn't roam too far. Maybe he’ll never let go again. Sachirou will live his whole life basking in Kourai’s blinding light, and he’ll tell him that he loves him, because he does. He loves Kourai, and he’s absolutely certain of it.

**Author's Note:**

> don't worry - sachirou's dog wasn't in this because she lives at home with his parents while he's away at school. he visits her from time to time when he's not too busy :)
> 
> come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/vethirugami) or [tumblr](https://spiritedsway.tumblr.com/).


End file.
